Do you see it empty or do you see it strangely full? For as long as I can remember, you can drop me anyplace, no matter how desolate or deserted – and my mind will start to roam, start to wander – start to fill up that landscape with thoughts of what might go on there – pretty soon I’m hooked. Why is that? I can only say it’s a mystery – one I’ve never sought the answer to.
An early review of An American Outlaw – though good – stated the writer of the review had been down on the border with Mexico, and passed through Terlingua; finding nothing to see there, nothing of worth, no reason to ever go back. I had to stifle a wry smile. But to each his own way of looking at it, I guess.
Outlaw, my first book, owes something to being stuck one summer in Terlingua years ago. A power outage knocked out everything – you couldn’t call out, couldn’t get a thing to work, couldn’t fill your truck with gas from a pump. Everybody was stranded. In the middle of no place. Nothing doing. You couldn’t get arrested. So to speak.
On the other hand, I got to thinking – just about anything might happen…
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